CHAPTER 165
KATYA POV
I couldn't look away. My gaze, heavy and unfocused, remained locked on Nonna. She was right there, just inches from the bed.
But she seemed to be drifting in a world of her own and I saw it, the glint of moisture under the harsh lights.
Nonna was crying. The Iron Matriarch, the woman who ruled the Salvatore household with a gaze of flint and a voice of silk, had tears carving slow, wet tracks down the deep lines of her face.
It was a sight so wrong, so disconnected from the reality I knew, that it made my heart stutter in my chest.
Why? My mind, still swimming in the thick, hazy soup of painkillers and trauma, began to churn.
Why is she crying? Was it because of me? Or was it the argument? The shouting match from moments ago echoed in my skull.
I remembered the roar of the man—the dark silhouette who had just stormed out. Was that Romeo?
